Ever notice how life seems to punish you when things go badly and reward you when things go well? And that when you're going through a hard time, people are cruel to you, but when things are ok, people are nice? My life has been hard in recent years and I keep fighting to make it better, but it's an uphill battle.
A year and a half ago, I got offered a job and affordable place to live in Australia and it seemed perfect because I had just finished grad school and I had friends there. I had always wanted to move there, so I took a risk - gave up the good life I had built for myself in San Francisco and went for it. On the day that I arrived, something went horribly wrong. I discovered that I had, against all odds, been pregnant for 2 months when I had a miscarriage with really heavy bleeding. At first, I was too weak to get to the doctor. I lost my job because I was too weak to work (I would faint if I stood up for too long; they accused me of being on drugs and refused to get me any medical help). After a few days, I finally did get to a doctor. She said that I had needed a blood transfusion but that it was too late and I'd just have to spend 2 months recovering on my own. That was ok - I had a cushion of savings to fall back on.
Then the people I was living with started actively trying to make my life miserable. Stealing from me, tricking me into lifting heavy things, invading my privacy, etc. So, when I could, I tried to spend a lot of time away from the house. Only about a week after the miscarriage, I got a pretty bad concussion while riding on a city bus. The driver stopped suddenly and I fell over, slid down the aisle, and hit my head on the front of the bus. I was too out of it to mention that I had lost consciousness so the driver just apologized and told me I didn't have to pay. After the blood loss and the concussion, I was in really rough shape, but I was determined to stick it out and make things work out somehow.
But it got worse. I basically got kidnapped and held prisoner for about 5 months by a man who wanted a "nurse". Fortunately, sex wasn't a big part of it. I mostly just got yelled at a lot and had to do everything he said 24/7 and wasn't allowed to sleep. I finally was able to reach out to one of his friends to help me escape. The guy gave me a place to stay, but he also raped me. Being drugged and raped sucked, but at least I was able to contact my family and get a plane ticket back to the US.
When I got back, I didn't know what to do. I was forever changed by my experiences and my plans had been destroyed. So I went to my dad's house to spend some time thinking things over. I took some classes online and got another advanced degree. People asked me what happened in Australia, and when I told them, I often got a "Serves you right. It's crazy to move to a foreign country," type of response. So I stopped talking about it. Even my dad thought it was all my fault. He would get mad at me for "making my family help me out" and causing him some inconvenience. I still haven't been able to get any counseling. But I'm not sure I need it. I'm strong and I'm pulling through.
I couldn't get a job in a small town because people saw me as too guarded and not feminine enough. But I was able to make it to San Francisco through a stroke of good fortune. The job prospects here are much better. But it's hard because I don't know how to explain the gaps in my resume. I got injured, kidnapped and raped and then spent some time recovering. I don't think that's appropriate to tell a potential employer. They'd just think I was lying or prone to drama.
I think that when I get a job, things will start to fall into place and I'll start to get my old life back. I just wish that the bad things that happened in the past would stop holding me back. Why does life have to punish you for having had bad luck?